


Red is the Only Colour

by mongoose_bite



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Little Red Riding Hood Fusion, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, Pre-Het, Pre-Relationship, Red Riding Hood Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-07-17 06:56:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16090403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongoose_bite/pseuds/mongoose_bite
Summary: A young woman walks alone through a snowy wood, her brilliant red cloak a splash of colour in a colourless world. In the distance, wolves howl. This is a night for hunting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, never written this pairing before, or Mikasa as a PoV character but this is the story that wanted to be written.

 

Twice a week a solid wooden carriage made its way into the forest to deliver parcels, letters and other supplies to the small towns eking out an existence within the dark, tree-clad mountains. Wintergelt was the last stop these days. Passengers were few and their arrival always caused a stir, but the arrival of the young woman caused more talk than anything else in the past year.

If she’d been the plainest old woman visiting a relative or the meekest travelling seller of books she would have been remarked upon, but she was neither of these things, and her description, accompanied by a blow by blow account of her arrival, had gone through the town of Wintergelt within the hour. The story would crash against the town’s walls and fall back in on itself, washing back across town, embellished and commented on until there might have been a dozen young women, hundreds, for no one person could possibly possess so many contradictory features.

That would happen later. For now, there was only one of her.

She had no luggage to land at her feet in the icy muck in front of Wintergelt’s post office and trading post, only a satchel over her shoulder. She wore sturdy leather boots and trousers, her clothing might have been a man’s except it was clearly cut to fit her. As if that wouldn’t draw the eye enough, she wore a hooded cloak over her outfit that was the brightest shade of red.

The locals gathered, trying to look like they weren’t, as they craned their necks to catch a glimpse of her within the darkness of the trading post. Outside the church bells were tolling noon although the sun was merely a dim, glowing disk behind a layer of cloud and barely had any warmth in it.

The young woman stepped inside and pulled her hood off her head, revealing a pale face and dark eyes, her face fringed with smooth, glossy black hair that hung unstyled and straight to her shoulders.

The front room was crowded with people waiting for the mail to be sorted, and the conversations died as she stepped in. She glanced about, her face betraying no expression, and then she approached the counter, making no move to remove her gloves or cloak.

“Where is Bleakrest?” she asked, ignoring the trader’s greeting.

He was so startled by the question he answered without disassembling. “East from town in the forest. The path still leads there.”

“Thank you,” she said, turning to go again.

“Wait, you can’t go there,” he said. “No one lives there now.”

She barely broke stride at his words, and no one moved to stop her as she walked outside without a backwards glance.

Curious children followed her openly as she strode through Wintergelt, and adults pretended to have business coincidentally carrying them in the same direction. Shutters opened,  curtains twitched, and housewives industriously swept their front steps, some so diligent in this task they’d interrupted their lunch to do so.

No one smiled at her, no one welcomed her. Wintergelt was not a smiling or welcoming place. She spoke to no one and betrayed no feeling good or ill, but the residents felt slighted somehow regardless. She was here in their town; she owed them something.

She was so young and beautiful and alone it was alarming, and they decided she was arrogant, wouldn’t listen to the advice they hadn’t tried very hard to offer, and thought herself above them. She would come to a bad end, they observed, and that was just how the world worked.

It wasn’t anything to do with them.

If she felt their judgement or the weight of their gazes she didn’t show it, that marvellously brilliant cloak rippling in the chill wind that whistled down through narrow, cobbled streets and moaned around weathered, gabled roofs.

The sky promised snow. It was madness to walk in the woods.

Maybe she was mad then. Or cursed.

They made holy signs at her back. That too provoked no response.

Wintergelt was ringed by a wall some twenty feet high, constructed out of trunks of the same vast trees that clad the mountains around it. Each spire of wood was carved into a sharp point, as were the logs hammered together to make the gates. It did not make the town feel like a safer place.

During the day the gates stood open and beyond them the forest loomed, dark and quiet and streaked with snow.

The road the carriage had taken to the southern gate had been broad and well-travelled, but the road beyond the eastern gate was being swallowed as it snaked into the forest, the ruts carved by endless cart wheels slowly filling in with pine needles and dark tree roots creeping across it like hunchbacked old crones.

The young woman walked through the gate and paused, and the watching townsfolk wondered if she’d changed her mind and found the reality of the path ahead of her too daunting even for a madwoman.

She looked up at the pale sky then lifted her hands and pulled her hood up over her head again before stepped resolutely out of Wintergelt. The silence was broken soon after her departure as the townsfolk started turned to each other and started to speak, but no words made it beyond the wall.

Beyond the well-trodden muck of town the snow lay unbroken on the ground, only an inch or two deep. The wind was softer here, filtered through the trees it whispered rather than moaned, and aside from the distant rustling in the treetops and the sound of the young woman’s footsteps it was almost entirely silent.

She walked confidently and soon was out of sight of the town, the forest closing in around her. She watched it out of the corners of her eyes and although she didn’t hurry she didn’t linger either.

She followed the road for some time, and eventually a new sound reached her ears. The rhythmic thudding of steel against wood. Walking on she smelled smoke, and soon the path opened up a little, and in a small clearing stood a sturdy wooden cottage, surly under its thick roof of thatch. Stacks of wood were piled up nearby, seasoning slowly under a dusting of snow; a woodcutter’s cottage then.

A thin curl of smoke drifted from the chimney, but otherwise all was still and quiet. Even the sound of chopping wood had ceased.

The young woman stood at the edge of the clearing for a while, but neither door nor shuttered window opened, and eventually she walked on. She didn’t need directions any more; there was only one road after all.

With her gaze fixed on the road ahead of her she did not miss the moment when a lone figure, an axe over his shoulder, strolled out of the forest ahead of her and onto the road. As their inevitable meeting grew closer the two figures, one dark and one a brilliant red, had time to observe each other.

The woodcutter, for she had seen no sign of anyone else, was dressed in thick, woollen clothes and had a furred cap on his head; the pelt belonged to an arctic fox hunted in summer when its fur was dark, the tail dangling behind one shoulder.

His gaze held hers as they walked towards each other, and she didn’t look away. He was broad-shouldered and stocky, as to be expected for one of his profession, but as she drew near she realised he was slightly shorter than she was. His colouring quite similar to her own, dark hair and pale skin, his gaze unblinking and direct.

He stopped a polite six feet or so away, but directly in her path.

She wondered what he’d do if she walked around him and kept going, but he wasn’t looking at her with the mistrustful sneers the townsfolk had worn, merely an expression of mild curiosity, and she halted, watching the air mist in front of his face as he breathed.

“You planning on going to Bleakrest?” he asked, as if there was anywhere else to go on this road. Maybe he thought her lost.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’m visiting my grandmother.”

An expression passed over his face, too swift to be read, and he inhaled and heaved a sigh. “You’re to be disappointed. No one lives at Bleakrest now. If she’s still there, she’s six feet down.”

“Is that so?” She kept her voice even, but it took a bit of effort, and his expression softened slightly.

“She might yet live,” he added. “Most likely in the town behind you.”

She shook her head.

“Bleakrest, she said, so to Bleakrest I will go first. Why waste the miles I have already covered? I will have to return regardless.”

“You have miles to go,” he said. “Wintergelt is still closer. You best not travel to Bleakrest at all if you can help it.”

“Why does no one live there now? Where did they all go?” she asked.

“They left. It got too dangerous to stay,” he said. He glanced around the forest, his gaze flitting from tree to tree for a few moments before turning back to her. “You should turn back. It’s not safe.”

“Why?”

“These forests are full of wolves. Safer to stay in Wintergelt.”

“You live outside the town.”

“I have an axe, and even so I would not travel to Bleakrest. Let the wolves keep it.”

“Thank you for the advice, sir,” she said. “But I best be getting on.”

“You think they won’t see you coming?”

She smiled faintly. “Wolves can’t see red.”

She stepped around him and kept walking. He didn’t move to block her path, or offer to accompany her.

“What’s your name?” he asked. “Should anyone come looking for you.”

“No one will come looking. My name is Mikasa.”

She didn’t ask his name and he didn’t give it, glancing at her as she walked away before he continued down the road towards his cabin.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

The hours passed, although there was little change in the light or atmosphere to mark them. Mikasa plodded on unhesitating but truthfully she didn’t know if what she was doing was wise. She didn’t take the woodcutter’s advice because she was glad to see the back of Wintergelt, and enquiring after Grandmother Ackerman would mean feeding her story, or parts of it, into the greedy ears of the townsfolk.

She’d never been particularly good or patient with people. If _she’d_ lived here, she would have preferred a cottage outside of town as well. She would try Bleakrest first, and if her quest failed there, then she would ask around town.

She didn’t fear wolves. She didn’t fear anything much; it came of having little to lose.

She had some food and water in her satchel, purchased many hours ago in the town she’d woken up in. She ate it without stopping as a light, powdery snow started to fall, almost imperceptible until she noticed it dusting her shoulders.

The cold was another reason to keep moving. Even if everyone had gone, she could find shelter in Bleakrest, build a fire and warm her aching fingers and toes overnight and make the trip back tomorrow.

The forest did not grow darker so much as gloomier, the green of the pines fading to a grey, as the day slowly slipped into the long, northern twilight. The road curved again, and the gap in the trees ahead revealed a small valley, and a collection of houses nestled within it.

It was still a good mile or two off, and the view was heavily obscured by pines. As hard as Mikasa stared, she couldn’t tell if there was any smoke hanging over the village.

With her goal in sight she started on the downward slope, and then something gave her pause. The snow was not weighing thickly enough on the pines to slide off their drooping branches, but nevertheless she thought she heard something scuff across the snow-dusted layer of fallen pine needles.

She turned slowly, scanning the forest around her. The back of her neck prickled, and she brushed her hood off her head, heedless of the way the cold air bit her cheeks and stung her ears, so she might hear more sharply.

She heard something padding softly through the snow, and saw a flicker of movement between the dark trunks of the trees. Mikasa stood in the middle of the road, watching one side of the forest then the other, as the soft footfalls grew closer.

Stopped.

She fancied she could sense the bunching of muscles, the intake of breath, the tensing for action, and her own body imitated her imagining, her heart pounding.

It wasn’t her heart she heard, however, it was the thump of heavy footfalls on soft ground, fast then faster, growing closer every moment, the swish of a low-hanging branches brushing over a large body, the whoosh of hot air squeezed from a vast pair of lungs.

Mikasa didn’t move, not until the beast finally revealed itself, leaping from the shelter of the trees and out onto the road, a wolf the size of a horse, yellow eyes gleaming and teeth the size and shape of throwing knives bared with a red, red tongue lolling between them.

She watched it coming at her from the corner of her eyes, breathed in the musky animal smell of it, and at the last moment she turned, her red cloak swirling around her, obscuring the way she spun out from underneath the wolf’s forepaws and how her hand found the blade at her hip. As the wolf crashed to earth, muscles rippling as it absorbed the impact, she turned and lashed out for the beast’s head, her weapon singing as she drew it from its sheath.

The wolf shied away, ducking with such speed she realised it had not fully committed to the first attack.

It started to circle her and she matched its movement, casting quick, sideways glances into the forest as she did so.

Wolves hunted in packs, after all, but so far the woods were quiet and still.

The wolf lunged again, jaws snapping and Mikasa hopped back out of the way. Wintergelt’s massive, sharpened walls made sense now; even a beast this size couldn’t hope to leap over them.

The wolf lunged at her again, but not close enough for her to try and attack. It was attempting to frighten her into fleeing. She knew what would happen if she did. Claws at her back, teeth clamping around her neck, or simply her whole head ripped off her shoulders.

So she held her ground, and her blade. If it wanted a piece of her it would have to come and get it.

It lunged again, for real this time, and she braved its jaws and ducked forward underneath it, jabbing her sword up into its chest. She felt the tip of her blade grate against a rib and she was knocked off her feet as the beast twisted and swung its great head at her, catching her across the back.

She rolled desperately in the snow, fighting her cloak as she reached for another weapon, the wolf looming over her, as tall as a mountain from her perspective. There was a streak of blood on its flank, but it was little more than a scratch on a beast that size.

She rolled onto her back, barely needing to aim as the sky above her was eclipsed by the beast. She raised her other weapon and pulled the trigger.

The blast jarred her shoulder, and the puff of smoke and flame obscured her view, the report ringing in her ears as she breathed gunsmoke. Deafened and blinded, she clutched her weapons and scrambled away, half-crawling, bashing her knees and knuckles against unseen stones and tree-roots under the snow.

She had to get away fast; she’d heard no howl of pain and the wolf had not landed on her. It had seen, understood, and evaded in a single moment. The weapon could only be used once.

A tree loomed in front of her and she hauled herself upright and threw herself behind it. The wolf was still in the middle off the road, great streaks of black across the side of its head and shoulder. The smell of burnt hair hung in the air. Its ears were back, its head and tail down, and teeth bared in a snarl.

It watched her.

Mikasa put her back to the tree, and made a show of fussing with the weapon. The barrel was hot, even through her glove.

“There’s more where that came from,” she said, loudly and clearly. It could understand her, she was sure of it. It understood what she was holding.

It padded around, watching her watching it, and she raised the gun. It blinked.

It surged forward. Her bluff had failed, and Mikasa darted around the tree as the wolf slammed into it, blunt claws scratching at the bark, as she hurled herself away, shoving the gun back into its holster. The tree shivered as the beast thumped into it, pine needles and snow raining down around it.

Mikasa ran for cover, hoping to use the beast’s size against it. It came after her, panting, as she ducked under branches and scrambled over tree roots. In her wake it kept pace, branches bending and creaking around it as it hunted her down.

She went faster, the cold air burning in her lungs, her legs, already tired from walking, starting to ache. She brushed these discomforts aside. Let it chase her then, she thought, scanning the trees around her. She jinked back and forth, more nimble than the predator at her back, forcing it to twist and turn, its paws gouging great tracks in the forest floor.

She just needed to be out of sight for a moment, practically tossing her blade between her teeth and seizing a low-hanging branch with both hands. She jack-knifed, her cloak swinging down behind her as she pulled herself up, swinging around the branch and using her momentum to curl herself over it, getting her feet under herself so she could push off and upwards. She leaped back the way she came, right towards the wolf, her blade raised high as she aimed for its eye. She crashed down into the beast, feeling her blade strike bone as it was nearly torn from her grasp. She heard a snarl of pain, and she landed and spun, ready to press her advantage.

The wolf kept its eyes, but she’d opened up a gash down its jaw, and its hot blood dripped from matted fur, the deep red almost black in the gathering gloom.

Mikasa raised her blade.

In the distance, somewhere off among the pines, a low howling rose. The wolf’s ears twitched, and it growled, low in its throat.

Were these other wolves simple animals or unnatural giants like this one? It didn’t matter; she had to get to shelter. Bleakrest was her only hope. She started circling the wolf, hoping she was no longer worth the effort to hunt, but prepared to battle it every step of the way if she had to.

The wolf shied away from the blade, and a whine whistled from its nose, its jaws clamped shut. Mikasa backed away, glancing over her shoulder to make sure the road was where she thought it was.

The wolf followed her. The howling once again floated through the trees. Mikasa couldn’t tell if it was getting closer or not.

As soon as she was back on the road the wolf paced ahead of her and stopped, deliberately blocking her way. She stepped closer, trying to hide the fact that her arm was aching from the strain of keeping the blade up.

The wolf lowered its head, and then dropped into a crouch, its massive head flat on the ground between its forepaws, like a dog waiting for its master to return.

Mikasa approached cautiously. It didn’t move.

To hell with it then. It was in her way. She made to dart around it and as soon as she moved forward it started to get to its feet, but too slowly. She wasn’t going to give up her advantage and she lashed out with the blade, dragging it across its paw and it stumbled before it could stand up properly. She drew her blade back again, now it was staggering, determined to open its throat.

She dove forward into the maelstrom of flashing teeth and gleaming eyes and blood and the wolf fell out of her way of her attack, but she wouldn’t be safe until it was dead and she stood over it and drove her blade down into its neck with both hands.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

A gust of hot air made Mikasa narrow her eyes. Her hair whipped around her face, her cloak tugged at her shoulders, and with a sharp clapping sound the downward thrust of her blade was abruptly halted.

A pair of hands had encased the end of the blade, trapping it harmlessly between two palms and over it Mikasa's gaze was met by a pair of grey, very human eyes.

She wasn't entirely surprised to see the woodcutter, blood streaking his knuckles and trickling from a cut down the side of his jaw. Her eyes dipped lower, seeking and finding the gash she’d left across his ribs. There was not a single stitch of clothing to hide his injuries, or indeed anything else, and she snapped her attention back to his face.

“We need to go,” he said, as the howling started up again, definitely closer than before. “We can't hope to fight them, and we are on their territory.”

“You're implying we're on the same side,” Mikasa said. “You attacked me.”

“I didn't intend to kill you. We can discuss it later if you like, but for now the enemy of my enemy and all that.” He released her blade and got to his feet, the skin on his arms goosebumping in the cold, a few drops of blood falling from his chin. He waited for her reaction.

She didn't disappoint him. She nodded and sheathed her blade; it was the best option available to her and they both knew it.

He bowed his head for a moment, his eyes sliding closed, and when he opened them again they were a deep yellow. He staggered forward, lips curling back from lengthening teeth, bones creaking as they grew, skin tearing, fur sprouting from the flesh beneath, steam curling from his shuddering form.

Mikasa could smell blood and fur, and the beast stood before her again.

It—he—crouched down, and Mikasa took two steps run-up before reaching up with both hands, grabbing fistfuls of coarse grey fur and hauling herself up onto his back. He was moving before she'd even had a chance to settle herself, and she hung on for dear life as he leaped away into the trees.

She dragged herself up onto his back, gripping him more securely with her legs and flattening herself against his neck as tree branches snagged and clawed at her.

She risked a glance over her shoulder, but couldn't see any pursuers. Not that she doubted they were there.

Mikasa knew she should think about what to do once the wolf stopped, but she was exhausted, and it took all she had to cling on as the wolf leaped across rocky channels dotted with pools of frozen water and crashed through spiky undergrowth. Mikasa's stomach lurched as he leaped down a particularly steep slope, and she nearly bit her tongue as they landed, the top of his head connecting sharply with her jaw.

He was warm at least. Her cloak flapped behind her and she didn't risk loosening her grip on him to try and tuck it closer around her body, so she found herself pressing against him for warmth. The twilight was giving way to night, and the temperature, already freezing, was dropping further. Her toes were numb in her boots.

They ran through a clearing of logged pines and down the length of a half-processed tree, before finally bounding out of the forest and back onto the road. They’d barely had time to pick up speed before the woodcutter's cottage appeared around the next bend, just as she remembered it.

The wolf trotted to a halt, sides heaving and tongue lolling. He turned his head to look up at her and Mikasa unkinked her fingers and slid down off his back. She stepped back quickly, tensed to run, but he didn't attack her.

Another gust of heat and steam saw the wolf's body disappear and the man return. Mikasa allowed herself to relax, a bit. She could still hear distant howling, and she scanned the forest.

“We have an agreement that they won't enter my territory. So as long as I piss on the fence post every day we're safe here.”

“Am I?” Mikasa asked pointedly, turning back to him.

He wiped the blood off his chin with the back of his uninjured hand. “Well it seems like you got the best of me earlier.”

“You were holding back,” she said flatly.

“Either way then you have nothing to fear.” He watched the forest for a moment and then visibly shivered and made his way over to the cottage. “Decide quickly,” he said. “I’d rather not open the door twice.”

Mikasa clenched her fists and then released them with a sigh. It was the curl of smoke over the chimney that made her mind up, she told herself.

The front door was unlocked but after she’d entered the cottage its owner bolted it behind her. It was quite dark inside but appreciably warmer, and Mikasa breathed in the scent of a wood stove; smoke and hot metal, commonplace but enough to give her a pang of homesickness.

The woodcutter’s naked body was a pale blur in the gloom, and he swiftly pulled on a pair of trousers neatly folded on a little table by the front door with a pile of other clothes. Unable to see clearly Mikasa stood awkwardly waiting for her eyes to adjust while he moved through the room.

She was an invited guest, more or less, but hardly an anticipated one.

As the woodcutter lit a couple of lamps Mikasa bent and unlaced her boots, stepping out of them before venturing into the room.

The cottage was mostly one one large room, warmed by the stove. There was a cot against one wall, and cupboards and shelves lined the others. The furniture was simple wood but solidly constructed and the floor was covered in thick woollen rugs and pelts. There was a door to the back, and the woodcutter stepped through it briefly and returned with a polished steel mirror.

He looked at his own face in it, prodding the wound on his jaw.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Mikasa asked.

He glanced at her warily. “Stoke the fire. There’s dough in the bowl on the hob if you are confident in your bread making skills.”

It wasn’t quite what she’d expected, but she nodded and set about divesting herself of gloves and cloak, hanging the latter beside a thick woollen coat on a hook by the door.

There was no task she would have liked better than to tend to a fire right then. The heat was a balm as she prodded it back to life, feeding a couple of split logs into it. When she took the cloth off the bowl he’d indicated the yeasty smell of the dough beneath took her right back to her childhood.

Too far.

“What’s your name?” she asked, more harshly than she’d intended, forcing herself to focus on the present.

“Levi.” He was cleaning his wounds with alcohol before bandaging them, having apparently decided they weren’t worth stitching.

“You're a werewolf.”

“And you carry a silver blade and a blunderbuss loaded with silver shot,” he replied. He'd finished with his face and his ribs, but bandaging the back of his right hand was clearly giving him trouble.

Mikasa hesitated, about to plunge her hands into the risen dough. She set the bowl aside.

“Let me?” she asked, holding her hand out for the bandage. It would be the closest he’d get to an apology for the injury; regardless of his motives he’d attacked her first, and deserved everything he got.

He handed the strip of linen to her, and she took his injured hand and started bandaging it up. She could feel him looking at her face but she focused on his hand. His fingers were heavily calloused, the nails clean and clipped short. When she was done he flexed his fingers and rotated his wrist.

“Not bad.”

“I stayed with a doctor for a while,” she said, already irritated with herself for saying that much. He hadn't even asked her. “I helped him with his patients sometimes.”

“A woman of many skills. Did you get your surgery skills from him as well?”

“That's none of your business,” she said and abruptly turned and punched the dough with a lot more strength than was strictly necessary.

“You're right,” he said. He put the medical supplies away and finished getting dressed. He didn’t speak again as he started preparing more food, letting her take out her aggression on the dough before she shaped it into little loaves the way she had been taught as a child.

The silence wasn't exactly comfortable, but it would have been worse if she hadn't been given something to do and made to sit there like a guest. Levi made a vegetable soup to go with the bread, and she was surprised for a moment before berating herself for assuming he was a carnivore.

As she ate she felt her eyelids growing heavier. She tried to convince herself it wasn’t wise to fall asleep in the house of a stranger and werewolf, but she couldn’t work up any real paranoia. He’d been perfectly straightforward about trying to warn her away from Bleakrest and she wasn’t going to condemn him for his monstrous nature.

They finished their meal and Levi said something about tea, and the last thing she remembered was waiting for it to brew. She jerked awake an unknown length of time later, her back and neck stiff from sleeping at the table. Her arms were around a cushion she’d been resting her head on, and her cloak was draped around her shoulders.

She blinked in the darkness. The cottage was cold and silent. She assumed Levi was sleeping in the cot and not out hunting on all fours, but she had no intention of finding out. Instead she groped her way around the table, taking the cushion with her. There was heat still emanating from the belly of the stove, and she curled up against its side, pulling her cloak over herself.

Her last thought was that at least her cloak wouldn’t get smutty; the stove and floor were very clean.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Mikasa awoke to the sound and smell of frying fat. She uncurled herself and freed her limbs from her cloak, her joints creaking and protesting after a night on the stone flags beside the stove. She felt like something out of a children’s tale; the poor girl forced to huddle by the stove for warmth. She supposed she was lucky she hadn’t been visited by fairies during the night.

She was, however, grateful her host hadn’t taken it upon himself to move her while she was asleep. She’d rather be sore and stiff than manhandled without permission.

Levi was at the table slicing leftover bread from the night before, paying her little attention as she crawled out of her alcove and got to her feet.

“Am I to piss on the fence post as well?” she asked feeling tired and rumpled and suspecting she looked as such.

Something like a smile crossed his face for the first time, and he glanced at her. “Not unless you want to tell every wolf in the forest we’re fucking. There’s a shitter out the back. Water too, if you want to clean up.”

Mikasa did not take any longer than she had to on either of these tasks. The morning sun was shining, but it cast long blue shadows across the frosted ground and the air was freezing. Her breath hung front of her face, and her cheeks stung with cold. The ice in the water basin had been broken, presumably by Levi, but there were still shards of it floating on the surface.

She had to brace herself before putting her hands in the water.

When she came back inside there was a plate on the table for her with fried bread on it, and the kettle was whistling.

Levi served himself and poured boiling water into the teapot. Steam rose from their breakfast, warm and inviting. He seated himself opposite her and didn’t waste any time getting down to business.

“Tell me who your grandmother is. If she’s in Wintergelt I’ll probably recognise her name, and I’ll be able to give you directions.”

It was almost sweet that he seemed to buy the story.

“Is this what you do? Turn people away from Bleakrest?”

“Yes. You know I've got good reason to.” His gaze was direct; he was still waiting for an answer. Maybe he didn't buy her story after all.

“How long has Bleakrest been abandoned to the wolves?” she asked, tearing into her bread.

“Three or four summers,” he replied.

“You mean the village has been infested with werewolves for years and no one's done anything? Why?”

“Because so far there's been no need to. A few people wandering into the forest against all good advice and not coming back isn't enough to bring hunters all the way out here, and no one else stands a chance against them.”

“You're keeping the peace,” she said. “Do the people in town know what you are?”

Levi shrugged. “They might suspect. It suits them not to know and me not to tell.”

“Seems like a thankless task,” Mikasa said.

“You're welcome then.” He poured tea into surprisingly fine china cups that probably cost more than anything else in the cottage. The contrast was quite startling, and Mikasa held her cup carefully, even if it wasn't finer than crockery found in any decent tea house in the city.

It made her suspect Levi had not always been a woodcutter, and she supposed he had not always been a werewolf either.

“Can you talk to them and tell them I’m no threat?” Mikasa asked. “Get me into Bleakrest. I think that's where I need to go.”

“To see your grandmother,” he said dryly.

“Maybe. I need to go there to make sure.”

“Regardless of your reasons I can't just tell them to be nice to you. They consider it a betrayal that I'm protecting the townsfolk, and a humiliation that I'm protecting the werewolves themselves as well.”

“Protecting them from what?”

“Girls with silver blades.”

“I was not prepared to fight a pack of them. They would have killed me,” she admitted. She lifted her head and met his eyes, “I need your help to go to Bleakrest, Levi.”

“Indeed you do,” he replied. It wasn't what she expected. In her experience men crumbled when sincerely asked for help; it flattered them, especially coming from her. Levi merely sipped his tea. “Do you think you're ready for Bleakrest?” he asked.

“No.”

“If I venture into their territory, our agreement is void. It will be the end of this peace.”

“It's not really peace if you have to enforce it,” she said. “More like a stalemate or a truce.”

“Sometimes that's the best you get,” he said. He finished his tea and stood up. “I have to get to work. I won’t stand between you and Bleakrest any longer. Do as you wish.”

Mikasa stared down at her hands as she gripped the edge of the table and wondered what she should do.

“I can’t just walk away. I need to think.”

“You’re free to do that then. But I need to go.”

“Of course.” Mikasa helped him collect the plates and cups, and he washed them with the rest of the hot water, steam curling about his face as he stood at the basin in the cold back room.

They prepared themselves for the weather together, pulling on gloves and boots and cloaks, and Mikasa preceded him out into the cold. They walked to the road and Levi went one way, towards Bleakrest and the little clearing of felled trees, and Mikasa stood and watched him go for a few moments before walking back to town.

Wintergelt was no more warm or welcoming than it had been the day before, and Mikasa weathered the stares of the townsfolk once more and she wondered what to do next. She could just leave, wait for the next time the carriage came by and be done with it.

She went to the traders and asked, and was told it was expected in two days time.

“Didn’t find Bleakrest to your taste?” he asked.

“I didn’t find it at all.” Not a single person in Wintergelt had thought to warn her explicitly, although they had all known what was waiting for her there. She felt a surge of anger towards Levi, who protected these thankless people. “The woodcutter stopped me,” she added, waiting for some kind of response, some flicker of remorse or understanding or anything other than resentful lasciviousness.

She was to be disappointed.

“Did he now? I suppose he might do that.” He was watching her, awaiting any further revelations on her part with unseemly curiosity. “You stayed with him then? You can stay here while you’re waitin’ for the cart. I got a spare room.” He squinted at her hopefully.

“That will not be necessary,” Mikasa said, turning her head slightly and watching everyone else in the store quickly return to examining the goods in front of them. She turned back to the trader. “I wish to purchase some things.”

She supposed they thought she was trying for Bleakrest again, this time with a larger pack on her back, and she didn’t trouble herself to correct them. She was concentrating on other things, specifically, Levi’s exact words earlier that day.

She followed the road east from Wintergelt once more, occasionally seeing her own footprints in patches of snow. No one else, man or wolf, had apparently come this way recently.

She knocked on the door of Levi's cottage, and upon receiving no response she walked on, and soon heard the sound of steel biting wood.

Levi was at work in the felled clearing, using a saw on the felled tree. The saw was designed for two people but he was working it alone, his coat discarded and draped over the stump of the tree despite the cold and his shirt soaked in sweat.

He paused when she entered his field of vision, and he lifted the saw carefully out of the groove before turning to face her.

“You never said you wouldn't help me go to Bleakrest,” Mikasa said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. She'd done her best to recall his words exactly, and she was almost certain he hadn't actually refused her request. “You said it would end the peace if you went, but Wintergelt can defend itself. They have a wall.”

“And yet, you are not ready for Bleakrest. You said it yourself.” Still no refusal; she felt she was standing on firmer ground now.

“I could get ready. You could help me.” She glanced at the tree trunk. “I'd help you as well, of course. I'm prepared to work hard.”

“I'm sure you are.” Levi flexed his fingers inside his gloves and cracked his back, rolling his shoulders. “I'm not going to make you any promises,” he said. “I might decide you'll never be ready. I might decide it's not worth it.” He looked around the clearing. “But you're right; this peace isn't worth much.”

“I understand. This is still very generous of you.” She watched him closely, trying to guess what his motivations were, maybe she could borrow them if she knew; sometimes her own were opaque even to herself.

His expression was not enlightening.

“I'm a generous man, aren't I? When you're done staring get your cloak off and grab the other end of the saw. I'm getting cold standing around like this.”

Mikasa nodded and obediently deposited her bags on the tree stump next to Levi's coat. The cloak looked like a pool of blood seeping from the heart of the felled tree. After a moment’s thought she unbuckled her belt and leant her silver blade in its scabbard against the trunk as well.

She hesitated, her hand on her blunderbuss. She hadn't had a chance to reload it since she'd fired it the evening before. It needed cleaning too.

“I'll know if anything or anyone approaches,” Levi said, apparently engrossed with examining some of the saw's teeth. “You're perfectly safe here.”

She unholstered the weapon and set it down, wrapping a bit of her cloak around it to protect it from the snow, and then it was time to get to work.

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Levi and Mikasa sawed at the tree for a couple of hours and then Levi called a halt.

“That’ll do for today,” he said.

“I can keep going.” Mikasa didn’t want him to think she was weak or incapable. She had strength in her arms yet, and wanted to impress upon him her dedication.

Or maybe she just wanted to impress him.

“Show me your hands,” he said.

She took off her gloves and held them out to him. They were reddened in places and he nodded.

“You need calluses; if you keep going you’ll get blisters and will have to wait for them to heal.”

“Oh.” Mikasa remembered holding his injured hand, and how rough his fingers and palm had been. She wondered if she’d end up with hands like that.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you something else to do,” Levi said.

He was as good as his word. Mikasa had expected this process to be some kind of test, but Levi merely asked her to do what needed doing, and she spent the afternoon cleaning, sharpening and oiling the saw blade while Levi made bread dough and reorganised his space a little to provide her a place to sleep and keep her things.

That night after dinner she took out her firearm and started cleaning it. The doors and windows of the cottage were shut tight against the cold night air, and when Mikasa had ventured out to collect some water from the half-frozen pond by the house she had heard distant howling.

Levi did not appear to hold any desire to go outside and run with the wolves, instead working on darning a pair of socks with a cup of tea at his elbow. Despite his bandaged hand he worked with precise, economical movements, and his stitches were neat and even.

Mikasa worked the black powder stains off the inside of the barrel, but the silence was starting to get oppressive.

“How did you know what this was?” Mikasa asked, gesturing with the weapon. “I took this from the house of the man who invented it.” She paused. “Or so I believe.”

“Did he know you took it?” Levi looked amused.

Mikasa shook her head. “He’d long gone. I grew tired of waiting and broke into his basement to see what was there. Answer my question.”

“I’ve seen weapons similar to yours, although nothing exactly like that one. Still, there’s no reason two people can’t have the same idea. Did you take that blade from his house as well?”

Mikasa nodded.

“A hunter of monsters then. No one else needs silvered weapons.”

“He was a doctor,” Mikasa said. “Not a hunter.”

“And I’m a woodcutter.”

Mikasa smiled faintly. Fair point, she supposed.

“He disappeared,” she said. “I looked in his house for clues when it was clear he wasn’t going to come back. I didn’t find much, just these weapons and the materials and machines used to make them.” She blinked, remembering those unhappy times that were not so far distant after all. She felt abandoned, and no amount of rationalisation or invention of other scenarios could quite convince her otherwise.

“How much shot do you have?” Levi asked. “How fast can you reload it? If you want to go to Bleakrest, you’ll need to consider these things.”

“Will it really come to that?” Mikasa asked, grateful that he’d given her something else to talk about. “I’d hoped we could just look around, or talk to them a bit.”

“Well it’s possible, but I wouldn’t expect it. They’ve been desperate to spill blood for months.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“Because I chose not to be. Perhaps under other circumstances I would have chosen differently. They fear hunters above all else, and a frightened beast lashes out.”

“Even if you come with me?”

“Especially then. They fear me too.”

“Are you a hunter?” Mikasa asked.

“I’m a woodcutter,” Levi said. “Do you want another cup of tea?”

“Thank you.” Mikasa smiled. Levi was surprisingly easy to get along with.

Levi’s wounds healed in a few days, the mark on his face still a visible red line, slowly growing fainter.

“What happens if I stab you with a kitchen knife?” Mikasa asked as she helped prepare a meal.

“I’ll bleed,” Levi said. “If you stab my wolf, it will bleed also, but when I become myself again the wound will vanish. If you kill the wolf with a steel blade I’ll claw myself free from the corpse unharmed.”

Mikasa nodded and kept chopping.

“We should go out tonight,” Levi said.

“I’m ready.” Mikasa thought she felt Levi’s eyes on her, and when she glanced at him she was right; his expression was thoughtful, and he didn’t seem bothered that she’d caught him at it.

She'd expected a fight. She brought her blade.

She waited outside the cabin while Levi disrobed, her breath steaming in front of her face. She tilted her head and looked up at the stars gleaming coldly in the sky above, distant as the mountains that framed them. She knew the moon was waxing, although it was not yet visible; she'd been keeping track of it lately.

Levi stepped outside, and closed the door behind him. Mikasa had intended to look away, but she found herself watching him, the scar on his ribs now a pinkish scratch that nearly blended into his pale skin.

He turned his head to look at her rather than facing her directly and she wondered if he was being modest. She'd worked for a doctor; she wasn't afraid of naked men. If anything, they were generally less confronting than the clothed kind.

Generally. Levi was a little different. She tried not to think about it too much.

“All you have to do is hang on,” Levi said. “If you fall off, you walk back.”

And with that Levi let the wolf break free. It seemed faster and easier than Mikasa remembered, the gust of steam practically an explosion that had her jumping back out of the way, as Levi put four paws in the snow.

Mikasa fancied she saw the wolf in him sometimes; something about his steady gaze and the way he moved, tilting his head when he listened to the forest. Now she saw his wolf again, she wondered if it was possible to see the man inside also.

After a moment she scrambled up onto his back again, grabbing handfuls of fur at the scruff of his neck.

He didn’t wait for her to get settled, loping off into the woods. He didn’t go towards Bleakrest, or indeed back to Wintergelt, instead plunging into the thickest forest. Mikasa had been in this position before, and she hunkered down. For a while it was effortless, although the distance Levi was covering made her uneasy. If she fell off it would take her all night to get back.

Eventually they crossed a road; she wasn’t sure if it was the one her carriage had taken or not, but they’d left the cottage, and presumably the hunting grounds of the Bleakrest werewolves, far behind.

Levi trotted to a halt and looked around, his great black nose twitching. Then he tried to throw her off.

Mikasa dug her fingernails in as he twisted to the side, and then was obliged to fling herself sideways as he tried to flatten her against the trunk of a tree. It was a warning, of sorts, because from that point on, he didn’t hold back.

He ran swiftly, jumping and changing direction, crashing through trees and leaping up and down the steep wooded slope. Mikasa was jolted and tossed around, her cloak buffeting her face occasionally.

She couldn’t hide her face from the cold; she had to watch for overhanging branches, brace herself for the next manoeuvre. Her exposed face was soon streaked with small cuts left by twigs and pine cones, and her shoulders were bruised from being battered against branches.

He had to be running out of tricks though.

They stood on a little rise, and Mikasa caught a glimpse of the distant plains, tiny specks of light indicating townships and farms. The moon, by now hanging fat but lopsided in the sky above, seemed closer than these homely places.

Mikasa hoped they were going back to the cottage soon.

Without warning, Levi’s body went limp beneath her, and she shrieked as they tumbled sideways down the slope. The ground was coming up to meet her; her instincts told her to jump clear.

She hung on. They were going over. Stones dug into her back and the air was squeezed from her lungs as Levi’s huge body rolled over her, and then she was lurching up into the air again, and she sucked in a breath before she was once again crushed beneath him. They rolled right down to the road, a breathless, bruising tumble that left Mikasa wheezing and dizzy.

Levi stayed sprawled on the road for a few moments, his legs splayed out, before he dragged himself to his feet.

“What was the point of that?” Mikasa gasped, shaking her head to try and dislodge pine needles from her hair; she wasn’t quite game to let go and use her fingers.

Levi shook himself like a wet dog.

“Hey!” Mikasa swatted the top of his head once the movement had subsided. “I’m talking to you.”

A gust of steam washed from his nose with a kind of huffing sound, and Levi started trotting along the road, as if he’d been trained to do so.

Mikasa didn’t trust him at first but they were clearly heading back, and she began to relax, although she didn’t let go until they were back in the clearing, the cottage just as they’d left it.

Mikasa dropped down off Levi’s back, her legs wobbly.

There was no gust of steam this time; just a protracted twitching and shuddering and effortful transformation that melted the snow around Levi’s metamorphosing form.

When he looked human again he was panting, and he knelt on the cold ground in the melted slush for a few moments before wearily getting to his feet.

“Good,” he said. “Now you have to learn to do that without hanging on.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

“Why are we doing this?” Mikasa asked, when they were back in front of the stove again, her fingers and toes aching as they started to thaw out and Levi fully clothed once more. She could feel the scratches on her face stinging slightly in the steam as she held her cup under her chin. “I thought you were going to train me to fight werewolves.”

“It wouldn’t make any difference,” Levi said. “No one person can take on a pack on their home territory and live. If you want to survive, you’ll need me with you, and if I’m going to be any use we’ll have to learn to work together.”

“I see.”

“You’re free to disagree,” Levi said mildly.

“I’ll defer to your greater experience.”

He snorted. “Aside from that, there’s no need to train you further; you already have exceptional skills. It would take a far better teacher than I to improve them.”

Unsettled and flattered all at once and uncertain as to how to respond, Mikasa changed the subject. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because if I didn’t you’d die.”

“So? People die all the time. I was a stranger to you.” And she’d done her best to remain a stranger still, she thought, with an unexpected stab of guilt.

“Curiosity, sentiment, boredom, take your pick.”

“There’s something else,” she said. “There has to be.”

“I don’t think this is all a coincidence. But until you tell me more about yourself I can’t really say for certain.”

“There’s nothing much to tell. I barely remember my family. They were-” she broke off. “They’re dead now. The people who killed them are also dead. I was taken in by a doctor and his family, and I learned something of medicine. The doctor’s wife died and then he disappeared, and since I failed to find him, I’m going in search of my own family. What about you?” She rounded on him, ending her monologue with a question that was more of a demand.

“I have family in the city,” he said, and she felt oddly disappointed by such a mundane answer. “When I became afflicted it was clear I had to leave. I followed rumours of wolves until I came to Bleakrest. The village was accursed, everyone said, and they weren’t entirely wrong. There were wolves there among the ordinary folk and they made me cautiously welcome. A village of our own sounded well and good, but I could not approve of the way they decided to found it.”

“What happened?”

“They wished to remain a secret, a real one, and that required removing all non-wolves from the village and silencing all witnesses. They’d attempted to recruit, swell their numbers first, but even so it was going to be carnage. When the night came people fought back against their relatives and neighbours. In the confusion I made my choice; I decided to help some of them escape to Wintergelt, and so the secret got out too. The next day, an agreement was struck. The people would forget Bleakrest, would not call for hunters, and I would make sure the forest would remain at peace; a neutral party should one be needed.”

“Why did they agree to this? Hunters could have got their village back, avenged their dead.”

“They couldn’t afford it. Hunters must be paid in silver after all, and few people here have that kind of wealth. Collectively the survivors decided it wasn’t worth it. They buried the dead, and tried to forget about the living. You think the world isn’t full of such compromises?”

“So why aren't the wolves happy? They got what they wanted.”

“Their numbers have grown over the years. Wolves find wolves; they are drawn to the wild and high places like I was, and howling can be heard for many miles. We want to join a pack. But Bleakrest was always a small, miserable place. They now eye Wintergelt and believe they could take the town if they could get inside the walls. Re-enact the plan that failed in Bleakrest.”

“You know this for certain?”

“They’ve tried.” He touched his nose. “I can tell when one tries to go to town. I find them and tell them to leave. Technically it's a breach of the agreement but what power do I have to enforce it? So far they obey me and leave without trouble.”

“So far.”

“I’m only one man.”

“Until I arrived.”

He tilted his head. “Technically, I’m still the only man. But yes, now you know I have my own reasons to go to Bleakrest and your help might be invaluable. Does this weaken your resolve?”

“No, not really.”

In a way it was reassuring to realise that he had his reasons. The fate of the werewolves and the people of Wintergelt was not her concern, and she was content to let Levi make his own plans.

The next night the wolf arrived easily and refused to be sloughed without a great deal of effort. Mikasa looked up at the moon as Levi forced his bones back into his sockets and closed his ribcage over the beast’s huge, beating heart.

“There’s no stopping it on a full moon,” he said. “We will all be wolves until it sets. I want you to stay inside tomorrow night.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“And you have no reason to be, but the others will be hunting and will find your trail. I’d rather we retained the element of surprise.”

“They must know I’m here.”

“I expect they do, but do you believe it so unlikely that I might find a woman willing to live with me?”

“No,” she muttered, flushing slightly and disliking herself for it; it was such a needlessly civilised reaction. They lived together for all practical purposes and no ill had come of it; there was no reason to be coy. “Why don’t you?” she asked, as attack can be a reasonable defence. “Is it the wolf? You have no other objectionable qualities as far as I can tell.”

“How very kind of you. You have certainly had the opportunity to examine me for any deficiencies. What a relief that you didn’t find any.” He was toying with her, looking more amused than he usually did. She deserved it, she supposed. “Perhaps I merely have high standards.”

Regardless, Mikasa stayed home on the night of the full moon. Levi had been quieter and more focused the entire day, and he left just before sundown on four legs. Mikasa cooked herself a meal and then cleaned it up, banked the stove, and realised for the first time how small the cottage was when one didn’t have the option of going outside.

She poked around looking for a way to spend her evening usefully, but Levi, as she had learned over the past week or so, was tidy and organised and she couldn’t even scare up a couple of spiders in the back room.

She was rummaging through a chest of clothes that smelled faintly of cloves, looking for something moth-eaten to darn when she came across the box. Her fingernails dug slightly at a leather covering that was nothing like the wood of the chest. She hadn’t reached the bottom; she’d found something else.

She paused, her heart beating fast as she listened to the faint moan of the wind across the thatch. He wouldn’t be home until dawn, wouldn’t be _human_ until dawn; his form was too large for the cottage.

I shouldn’t care about this. It’s not my business. The box was almost as long as the chest it was hidden in, the leather old and cracked at the corners, the straps a little frayed. It was heavy but weighted unevenly, and nothing rattled about inside when she lifted it out of the chest, Levi’s clothes in neat piles in a circle around her on the floor.

She wouldn’t open it. She didn’t have to. It was enough to lean close and inhale, her blunt, human olfactory senses straining to tell her what Levi could have sensed from a room away; dust, cloves, leather, oil and gunpowder.

Well, she couldn’t say she was surprised.

Mikasa went to put the leather case back when she saw the piece of paper at the bottom of the chest. She set the case down, and picked up the paper without even really considering it. It seemed like less of an invasion than investigating the leather case; it wasn’t locked away, after all.

When she picked it up she realised it was actually three pieces of paper; two blank protecting the print in the middle, and that she’d been entirely wrong about its importance.

It was a lithograph of a woman in a long dress, sitting at a table. The artist had not been particularly gifted, but despite this Mikasa could tell she was beautiful, and see the resemblance in the chin to Levi.

His mother, presumably. There was no date or name, just an indecipherable artist’s mark. Mikasa slowly and methodically put everything back where she found it, and sat in front of the stove, staring blankly at the wall for a while.

Of course he had a mother. Everyone did. The real question was, why had he hidden her picture away. If _she’d_ had a picture like that, even if it was wrong or ugly, she’d never stop looking at it.

A great wave of melancholy washed over her. Levi was a friend, of sorts, and his presence was comforting. Without it she was acutely aware of how empty the forest beyond the cottage walls was and how back in the lighted places she’d fled from no one would be wondering what had become of her.

It was a miserable thought and she despised herself for it. She tried to convince herself that Levi would too, but she had to admit he was kinder than she was. Getting nowhere, she unfolded the pile of pelts and blankets that served as her bed, and put herself in it, eventually convincing herself to sleep.

The next morning was freezing. Mikasa woke curled in a ball under her blankets, and when she poked her head out, she could see her breath. The stove was out and pale light was seeping in around the shutters.

She looked around for Levi, and found him half hanging off his bed, having apparently dragged himself close enough to pull some of the blankets onto himself and fallen asleep before making it into bed properly.

He was still naked.

For a moment Mikasa thought he might be injured or even dead, but he was breathing evenly, and while his wrist was cold, his pulse was fine. Asleep then. So asleep he reminded her of the doctor’s patients after they’d swallowed the poppy medicine.

Levi barely stirred as she put her arms under his knees and heaved the other half of him up into bed before tugging the blankets over him and making him comfortable.

She stared at his sleeping face and saw his mother in the shadows of his chin and cheekbones. He was hard to look away from like this, vulnerable and unguarded in sleep. He always woke before she did; she'd never seen him asleep before. This could be dangerous, she thought, tearing her eyes away.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Levi woke around noon and assured Mikasa there was nothing particularly wrong with him, he was just exhausted. She’d spent the morning relighting the stove and making dough and hauling water and Levi had slept through all of it.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked.

“Not in bed.” He scowled. “Eating in bed is disgusting.” She looked away as he pulled on some clothes and shambled over to the kitchen table. “Any porridge left?”

There was, and he ate all of it and drank several cups of tea.

“I’m going to be useless today so I’m going back to bed. Don’t feel you have to hang around here and watch me sleep.”

It wasn’t an accusation as he couldn’t possibly have known, but she felt stung with guilt anyway. She must have managed to keep it off her face, however, as he didn’t appear to notice anything amiss.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“You can make a supply run to town if you want. I’ll get you some money.”

She didn’t want to go to Wintergelt, but now he’d asked her to she couldn’t really say no. They’d need new supplies sometime, and he was providing for a whole extra person. She considered wearing her suit again, which she’d swapped for ill-fitting and unflattering but hardy woodsman’s clothing while she’d worked with Levi, but decided she didn’t care enough to bother.

Levi took some coins from a leather pouch tucked away on a shelf near the stove and handed them to her. She knew the running of the cottage well enough to guess what was needed in town, but Levi drowsily recited a list anyway before yawning and making his way back to bed.

Mikasa flung her red cloak over her shoulders and stepped out into a crisp day, the skies clear enough that she could see the snow blowing off the top of the mountains in some distant unfelt gale. She left the cottage clearing and took the road back to town. On the way she noticed large paw-prints in the patches of snow among the trees. Either the other werewolves had visited the area, coming far closer than she’d expected, or Levi had spent the night pacing around the area keeping guard.

Neither thought was very reassuring, and she hurried on.

She returned a couple of hours later with all the fury of the rising wind that swept a handful of snow through the front door to Levi's cottage as she slipped inside and was now humming and moaning about the chimney and ruffling the tops of the pines.

She stomped across the room and slung the sack of goods across the kitchen table, seething for a few moments before turning and bolting the door and shrugging off her cloak.

Levi was awake, sharpening his axe at the kitchen table with a whetstone, and he didn't say anything, simply putting the tool aside and starting to unpack the supplies she'd bought.

“They called me 'Missus',” Mikasa said eventually, when it was clear Levi wasn’t going to ask her why she was in such a bad mood.

There was a part of her that had enjoyed mystifying the townsfolk a little, but apparently all it took to disillusion them was a couple of weeks and a change of clothes. They looked at her like they knew her, like her place in their world had been decided, and there was no mystery left to cling to her, regardless of her brilliant red cloak. She belonged to a man, and thus was of no further consequence.

“I'm not surprised,” Levi said, sniffing at a block of cheese before setting it in the cupboard. “Under common law, we are probably married.”

“What?”

“An unrelated man and woman cohabiting are considered married in many places,” he continued peaceably, even as Mikasa's stomach squirmed unpleasantly. “Although sometimes it's only recognised if there are children.”

“But I don't want to be married! This is ridiculous.”

“Well I'm not about to start demanding spousal rights, if that's what's bothering you.”

“I won't either,” Mikasa said, aware that as the female party she didn't get all that many to start with, unless she should be widowed—she was _not_ married, damn it. When she was younger she'd always imagined she would be, but not like this. Nothing like this. There would have been a ceremony and friends and flowers, and it would be spring. Her husband would be her own age, bright and joyful, even if stubborn, and their house would contain not a single secret between them.

It was hard to believe she’d once been so hopelessly hopeful and naive. She shook her head, forcing those childish thoughts away, and went to help unpack.

“I owe you some money,” she said. “You are feeding me, after all.”

“You're working for it,” Levi said. “I wouldn't be concerned.”

“Very well.” She wasn't going to argue; money was always useful, and the less she was obliged to spend the better. She supposed she could find work somewhere as a doctor's assistant or nurse if she had to earn more, but would rather put it off as long as she could.

The wind continued to blow all afternoon and it grew dark early, flakes of snow swirling down from the sky.

“Are we going out tonight?” Mikasa asked.

“Wouldn't you rather stay in, in this weather?”

“It's very boring. I didn't have much to do while you were gone. The moon was full last night, so it must be nearly full tonight. Don’t you need to go out?”

“It'll be behind cloud,” Levi said.

“Tell me how the werewolf thing works,” Mikasa said. “I've seen you transform when the moon wasn't visible. The first day we met it wasn't even fully dark.”

“We don't need to see the moon to call the beast, we just need to feel it. We call it 'finding the moon,'” Levi said. “When the moon is full the moon finds us, and we have no choice but to let the beast loose, but depending on if we can see it and how full it is, it's more or less difficult to transform. It's easier if there are a group of us. A pack of werewolves can find the moon under almost any circumstances, and older wolves and those born to it can find the moon more easily.”

Mikasa digested this information. “I saw wolf prints in the snow quite close to town,” she said.

“I'm sure you did. I keep them from sneaking in as humans, but it's the walls that keep out the beasts when the moon is full. But you needn’t be concerned. You are safe in this cottage.”

Mikasa wished she felt it, wished she had Levi's nose and ears and could tell when they were out there.

“Do you know much about other monsters?” she asked, trying not to think of the leather case that smelled of gunpowder hidden under his clothes.

“Some.”

“Can vampires have children?”

Levi’s eyebrows shot right up in surprise.

“You’re expecting your grandmother to have fangs?” he asked, bemused.

“No.” She’d come this far, may as well get it over with. “The doctor I stayed with only worked at night, and you know, he was very good. Too good perhaps. It was like blood obeyed him sometimes. He took on cases no one else would touch, saved people who’d already had the last rites. People loved him, even though he was distant.”

She sighed. “He had a wife, and, and he had a son, and so I don’t think anyone suspected anything.”

“Except you.”

“I didn’t either. Not until later, after he’d gone and I found the silver blade and started to reconsider all I knew about him.”

Levi shrugged. “Half-vampires exist. They’re called dhampirs. They can stand a bit of sunlight, apparently, but that’s all I know. What was the son like?”

“He was like no one else in the whole world,” Mikasa said. “He was a good friend, and I can’t believe he’d have kept something like this secret from me.” Mikasa paused, finding her certainty had eroded over the months since he’d vanished. “I wish I knew what happened to him, and if he’s still alive.”

This was the truth, a quest dearer to her than the one for her own kin, but she’d exhausted it, had failed and didn’t know why.

“I see.” Levi understood enough to not try and comfort her.

That night the storm grew worse, and although Levi spent the evening pacing around the cottage restlessly, he kept the beast locked away. If the wolves were howling in the forest, their voices were lost in the storm.

The next morning Levi and Mikasa were obliged to dig their way out of the cottage and clear snow away from the doors and off the roof, even as more drifted down around them. Despite the weather, they went back to work.

As hard as it was to believe in that cold, mountainous forest, the worst of winter was over, and the sun shone more often as the days slowly started to lengthen. A few of the braver flowers started pushing their way up through the snow, and Levi was now obliged to leap across fast, furious torrents of snowmelt as they ranged across the forest on their near-nightly practices.

Levi didn’t always find the moon however; it was too exhausting to run as a wolf every night, so he insisted on other exercises instead. He cut them a couple of lengths of wood and they fenced with them, not to necessarily defeat the other, but to get used to moving together, to anticipate how the other thought and fought.

It was like dancing.

One evening the air smelled especially promising to Mikasa. They’d spent the afternoon scrambling all over the logged trees swinging their sticks at each other like a pair of children playing at pirates, and now they were making their way back to the cottage in near-darkness. Mikasa was still idly swinging her length of wood, anticipating the dinner that awaited them and alive to the changes coming across the forest with the turn of the season.

It was invigorating, and she had energy to spare.

“Are we going out tonight?” she asked.

“Do you want to?” Levi asked, watching her with interest as she turned and walked backwards a few paces so she could face him.

“I do.” She felt like laughing, like dancing. She was getting good enough that it was fun to fly through the forest on Levi’s back, like riding a whirlwind. She’d ridden horses before, but never as fast or recklessly; she could never trust a true animal as much as she could trust Levi.

“Alright,” he said, and she smiled at him, spinning to face forwards again, her cloak and hair swinging.

Her good mood was infectious. They made dinner stepping around each other and avoiding each other’s elbows with ease borne of practice. Dinner was made as it always was; with efficiency and the smallest amount of mess, but Mikasa only realised she was showing off when she found herself spinning one of Levi’s razor sharp knives around her fingers as she waited for her turn at the stove.

It was only when Levi smiled at her that she realised he’d noticed.

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

Mikasa crouched on Levi’s back, one hand clenched in the scruff at the back of his neck, the other holding her blade. She braced herself, keeping her balance as she felt Levi’s paws hit the ground below her at a flat run, the rhythm of his movement familiar enough that she barely had to think about it.

The trees brushed past them as he raced through the forest, but he wasn’t trying to throw her off; they were past that now, taking on greater challenges. Ahead of them stood a single dead pine, a spiky black spire of wood stood silhouetted against the snowy slope behind it. Levi barrelled at it, and Mikasa tensed.

At the last moment Levi leaped, and Mikasa pushed of his back at the highest point of the arc. Stretching upwards she slashed at the bark with her blade as she sailed past. The dead boughs creaked as she half-fell half-climbed her way back down, not game to put all her weight on any of them for too long, dropping from one to the next as lightly as possible.

She landed and rolled with expert grace at the base of the tree, and Levi circled around and padded up next to her. They gazed up at the tree, the trunk scored with gashes left by her blade. Mikasa narrowed her eyes, pleased that the latest addition was two inches higher than her previous record.

“Not bad,” she said. They were reaching the edge of what they were capable of and they both knew it.

The time was coming to go to Bleakrest.

Mikasa realised she felt some ambivalence about it. Whatever they found there, Mikasa was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be a grey-haired and apple-cheeked old woman who’d welcome her with open arms into a home that smelled of gingerbread.

She could ask Levi. She could show him the reason she came here, but couldn’t quite bring herself to snap the slender thread of hope that kept her moving forward, and gave her a reason to stay in his presence.

She didn’t like to think about what would come afterwards. She’d never been good at farewells; no one had given her much opportunity to practice them, her past littered with the dead and the disappeared.

She’d miss him. She’d miss the cottage, which had become a home of sorts, a place where she could lower her guard.

“We should go on the next full moon,” Levi said when they returned to the cottage that night.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Mikasa asked. “They’ll all be wolves.”

“Exactly. Unless they decide to destroy their own homes, an ordinary door will be enough to keep them at bay. Hands are very useful things and they won’t have any. Besides, you know what I’m like the day after; they might be furious at our intrusion, but come morning they won’t have the energy to do anything about it. You’ll be able to leave without fear of pursuit for at least a day.”

“I’ll have to leave immediately,” Mikasa said, realising the truth of it. “What about you?” she stared at him. “They’ll come for you too.”

For the first time Levi refused to meet her gaze, his forehead wrinkling as he frowned into his teacup.

“I don’t know. I shall retreat to Wintergelt in the first instance, and I suppose I shall stay for a while at least, and see how the townsfolk get on.”

“That’s a waste of your time,” Mikasa said, somewhat bitterly. She hadn’t expected him to offer to go with her, but part of her might have been hoping he would.

As it turned out the discussion was moot, and they were given no choice at all.

The full moon was still a week and a half away. Between them they’d made good progress in the clearing, and Mikasa had wondered more than once, with some amusement, what the reaction might be if she presented herself at some logging camp as a woodcutter with some experience.

They were working the saw again, one each side, in a rhythm that Mikasa sometimes heard in her sleep, when Levi held his hand up to stop. Mikasa paused, taking the opportunity to straighten her back and look around at the still-thawing forest. She’d heard birds recently.

She didn’t hear them now. She didn’t hear anything. She waited while Levi lifted his head and inhaled deeply.

Levi bared his teeth, and she saw the wolf in him again.

“We need to go,” Levi said. “Now.”

“What?” Miksasa was moving regardless, flinging her cloak around her shoulders and picking up her weapons; even now she did not enter the forest without them, and Levi never suggested she should do otherwise.

“Run for town, now!”

The huge wolf crashed through the trees at the edge of the clearing as Levi yelled, and Mikasa suddenly feared that the forest was alive with them, the pines bending out of their way as they surged through the trees, but she couldn’t tell, small and human as she was.

Mikasa turned and ran, although how Levi could expect her to stay ahead of a wolf-

Levi didn’t. As it thundered after her the woodcutter vaulted over the tree trunk they’d been sawing, his axe gleaming as he lifted it high over his head, and brought it down on the back of the wolf’s neck.

The wolf let out a weirdly human moan and its front legs buckled, its great head ploughing into the ground at Mikasa’s heels as she snuck a glance over her shoulder.

“Go, go!” Levi wrenched the bloody axe free and kept running. Even if she couldn’t hear them, Levi clearly thought there were more where that came from.

Levi didn’t find the moon, running after Mikasa on two legs, his arms pumping. Mikasa realised if he risked transforming Wintergelt would close its gates on them.

If they made it that far.

She pelted down the road, watching the forest out of the corners of her eyes, hoping it had only been a single wolf, felled with a blow from an ordinary axe.

They rounded the corner and Mikasa skidded to a halt as she saw two wolves on the road ahead of them. It was then she realised this Bleakrest venture was over; whatever their reasoning, the werewolves made up their minds that she and Levi were a threat.

“We’ll cut through the woods,” Levi called, veering left. “Come on.”

“No,” Mikasa said quietly, making her mind up the way she usually did; with speed and an almost prenatural calm. She ran right, back towards Levi’s cottage.

“Mikasa!” Levi yelled, and she was gratified at the note of concern in his voice, but she didn’t look back.

She could hear the wolves moving through the forest to intercept her as she ran for the cottage. She put her shoulder to the front door, moving too fast to open it properly, and staggered slightly as she burst inside. She grabbed her satchel as she flew past, but that wasn’t why she was there.

She could hear them panting and their heavy footfalls as they circled the cottage as she flung the chest open. She shovelled Levi’s clothes out onto the floor, uncovering the leather case hidden within it.

The front door creaked and the cottage shuddered as a large, heavy body flung itself against it. Mikasa carefully tucked the picture and its protective sheets of parchment into her satchel, and slung the leather case under her arm. Thus burdened she knew she couldn’t run very fast, but she couldn’t outpace a wolf anyway.

Something in the roof gave way with a snap, and Mikasa felt coldly furious as several pots and pans clattered to the floor. How dare they. A part of her also felt resigned; once again a home was coming down around her ears.

A wolf was watching her through the doorway, its great yellow eye fixed on her as she got to her feet, its teeth bared in what might have been a malicious grin. Where are you going to go now, it asked her silently. There is no escape in the trap you have made for yourself.

Mikasa walked towards the door, pulled out her blunderbuss, and blew the side of its head off.

The noise was indescribable. The wolf fell back with a pink spray of blood and steam, and Mikasa darted out, mindful of the blood under her boots as she scrambled over its twitching corpse. Her weapon was loaded with silver shot; it would not be getting up again.

She wondered where Levi was, wondered which of the snarling wolves in the clearing was him, if any. Maybe he’d abandoned her.

As the sound of the blunderbuss died away a strange, brief silence fell as Mikasa stepped out of the cloud of gunsmoke and steam, and the wolves looked at her, recalculating their chances against the young human.

And then one of the wolves screamed as another leaped on its back and sank his teeth into its spine.

Levi hadn’t left her, and Mikasa felt a great swell of gratitude and affection for him as she she holstered her gun and drew her blade, somewhat awkwardly thanks to the leather case under her arm.

Levi tore a strip off the other wolf and bounded towards Mikasa, ducking his head low as she ungracefully threw herself across it. Normally she had at least one hand free, but she refused to let go of the box, and she put her blade between her teeth so she could grab a handful of his scruff as he lifted his head abruptly, flinging her onto his back.

She kept her head low, facing the wrong way to see where they were going. Instead she watched as the wolves started howling over the body of the one she’d slain, the steam now dissipating to reveal a small, crumpled human form, the snow stained red around it.

They were still howling when they turned to give chase, the one Levi had attacked falling behind the others.

Mikasa ducked as she felt pine needles brush across the back of her head and she swung herself around to face forwards.

Levi took the most direct route to Wintergelt and when he burst from the trees Mikasa wasn’t surprised to see the gates were firmly shut. Levi slowed to a trot and tilted his head to look at her.

She stared back.

He jerked his head upwards, indicating the top of the wall. They could probably fling her over it; it was only a bit higher than the mark on the dead pine, after all. She’d be safe in town.

Mikasa dug her heels into his sides, gripping him firmly.

“I’m staying with you,” she said. “I have something of yours anyway.”

Levi nodded, and once more began to run.

  
  


 


	9. Chapter 9

This is the third time I’m leaving behind a home, Mikasa thought as she clung on to Levi’s back. At least this time she was not alone in doing so. They’d skirted around the walls of Wintergelt and were now in the forests and farmland beyond, leaping hedges and weaving through patches of forest and avoiding roads and farmhouses where possible. There was no chance of hiding; the werewolves would smell them out. The best they could hope for was flight, and the werewolves’ natural reluctance to leave their territory.

Too many wolves abroad would bring hunters, after all.

Mikasa couldn’t ask Levi how he felt, couldn’t see what he was thinking as he loped onwards, slowing from a furious run to a steady trot that ate up the miles surprisingly quickly. He hadn’t hesitated to leave, but neither had she; they were both people who made their minds up quickly and acted as they thought best without hesitation.

The leather case was still tucked under Mikasa’s arm, and the edge of it was biting uncomfortably into her biceps, but she kept her arm clamped around it. What Levi thought of that was another unanswered question, and Mikasa refused to believe she’d made the wrong decision in going back for it.

As they fled from the mountains she felt the air growing warmer as they descended, and it was like they were travelling forward in time as well as space as spring deepened around them; the snow had melted here weeks ago. For Mikasa it was a relief to be away from Wintergelt, and the oppressive eternal weight of the mountains overlooking her from every angle. They were receding into the past behind them, their craggy faces awesome and indifferent when she looked over her shoulder.

The afternoon stretched on and Levi ran tirelessly until the sun finally started to drop below the horizon, and the warmth leached out of the air. Finally he slowed to a walk, crossing a field and stepping over the ditch that separated it from a road. In the distance the lights of a small hamlet were starting to gleam.

As soon as he halted Mikasa practically tumbled from his back, her legs stiff and unresponsive. She nearly fell to her knees and was obliged to brace herself against his flank until she’d found her feet again, restoring circulation to her legs by stomping.

She noticed Levi’s paws were caked in bloodied earth, and she realised he’d literally run them ragged, each step would have caused him pain. His tongue lolled, his muzzle streaked with dried foam and blood. Luckily the latter was not his, as far as she could tell.

Levi closed his eyes and steam started to curl around around him. As he returned to human form he slumped to his knees, and Mikasa, short of any other options, took her red cloak from around her own shoulders and draped it across his to cover his nakedness.

“We need to be in a town,” Levi said heavily. “We might still have pursuers.”

“You need clothes,” Mikasa said, offering him her hand. He took it, and she hauled him to his feet. She kept her grip firm for a moment, until she was sure she had his attention. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault we had to leave—you had to leave your home.” He’d lost almost everything.

She made to pull away, but it was Levi’s turn to squeeze her hand, and to her infinite surprise he pulled her closer and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders. After a moment’s disbelief and hesitation, Mikasa hugged him back, nearly knocking the cloak off him.

She swallowed back tears trying not to think of all the homes she’d lost. She didn’t deserve his sympathy, but she soaked it up regardless, like it was the only thing keeping her from flinging herself apart.

“Why aren’t you angry?” she asked. “I pried into your business.”

“Seems a bit late for that,” he said. He sighed. “It doesn’t matter so much. Come on, we need to find somewhere safe for the night.”

She let him go with some reluctance, and hid behind her hair while he arranged the cloak over himself as best as possible. At least it was long on him, she supposed. She gave him the leather case, and they walked into the nameless town ahead of them.

It was a sleepy place, but there was a lodging house. Mikasa marched in and requested a room and a hot meal for ‘myself and my husband.’

Levi carried his leather case and her satchel, and tried to hide the fact that his feet were bare and Mikasa supposed they thought her a horrible domineering sort of wife, but that was the least of her concerns.

It wasn’t until the door was safely shut behind them that she started to relax. Levi perched on the bed and undid the straps on the leather case.

Mikasa couldn’t help herself; she had to look, and Levi didn’t object as she set her boots by the door and padded over to see what was inside.

She wasn't surprised to see the firearm, gleaming and complicated. Alongside it, a silver blade, gleaming and simple, and a leather pouch that clinked. Levi took out the latter and upended it into his palm. The coins inside were dark; tarnished silver worth a modest fortune in a place like this.

“This should buy me some proper clothes,” Levi said. “You’ll have to go out tomorrow and see what’s available here.” He looked down at the gun, a relative of Mikasa’s own, but less compact. It wasn't damaged or scarred particularly, but it had the air of a weapon that had been used a lot. Mikasa had barely fired hers. He ran his hand across the butt, keeping his fingers away from the oiled metal before closing the case again.

The landlady brought them a meal on a tray that Mikasa accepted at the door she almost immediately closed in her host’s face.

They fell upon the rather bland meal and devoured it without speaking. Mikasa put the empty tray outside, and walked down the hallway to the communal bathroom.

When she returned, Levi was asleep. She bundled him up in the bedspread, and flopped down beside him. She fell asleep almost instantly, but her dreams were threaded with the howling of wolves.

The next morning brought weak sunlight struggling through rain, and Mikasa was completely disoriented for a few moments, wondering why she was in a bed with most of her clothes on, blinking stupidly at the lace curtains framing the room’s only window before remembering where she was and why she was there.

Her first concern was Levi and she abruptly rolled over and found herself practically nose-to-nose with him. He was still wrapped up in the bedclothes and fast asleep, and her breath caught for a moment as she expected her sudden movement to wake him.

No, he was exhausted and it didn't look like he'd stir any time soon. Mikasa sat up and decided to make herself useful, as it was the least she could do. Breakfast could wait.

She found a shop in the small town that sold among many other things second-hand clothing and other useful sundries including a rather worn pair of men's shoes that she hoped would approximately fit Levi.

When she went back up to their room Levi was awake and having breakfast, still partially wrapped in the bedspread, and when she walked in the door he couldn't hide the brief look of shock on his face.

“You thought I'd just left?” Mikasa asked, feeling slightly hurt.

“It crossed my mind,” he admitted, putting the empty bowl on the table.

She didn't know exactly what they were to each other, but she knew they were better than that.

She put the bundle of clothes down on the bed next to him, and opened her satchel to retrieve the papers she'd rescued from his cabin.

“Here.” She handed them to him. “I couldn't just leave her.” It was the real reason she'd turned back, the leather case an afterthought.

Levi accepted the picture, and lifted the top page to look at it for a few moments before covering it up again.

“Thank you,” he said. “I thought this has been lost.”

“You should see this as well,” Mikasa said, handing over the folded piece of paper she'd kept in the bottom of her satchel since she'd arrived in Wintergelt.

Levi took it from her, and unfolded it. It was a public notice, like those posted on the boards in every town square. Mikasa had come across it by chance while looking for work that might suit her, and had ripped it off and taken it without a second thought.

Levi started laughing. She'd never heard him laugh before, and if it was going to sound like this every time, she wished he'd stop. It didn't sound very mirthful.

“What is it?” she asked, her stomach sinking. The notice had been simple; Mme Ackerman was nearing the end of her days and wished for any distant relatives to visit her in Bleakrest before the time came for her to receive her eternal reward.

“I assume there are no Ackermans in Bleakrest,” Mikasa said sourly. Not that it mattered now, and she’d suspected as much in the end, but his reaction was unnerving.

“There was one,” Levi said. “And then he moved to a cabin in the woods. Someone's playing a joke; on me, not on you.”

“Wait, _you're_ an Ackerman?”

“Mm.”

“We're related?” She felt horrified rather than elated.

“Well, not very I'd imagine. Kenny keeps a very close eye on our clan.” Levi looked her over speculatively. “He clearly didn't know about you, so you must be pretty far removed. I'm sure our marriage is still legal,” he added dryly.

Mikasa would not be distracted. She was thinking furiously, trying to put everything together “This Kenny posted the notice to get at you somehow?”

“Likely. He was very annoyed when I left and expected me to return with my tail, literal and metaphorical, between my legs within a year. That didn’t happen, and this demonstrates how desperate he is to get me to come back. We Ackermans are hunters, Mikasa. You've got the knack too, and you know it.”

“I’m not sure I want to be a hunter, or have all this decided for me.”

“What do you want?”

That was the question, and staring at Levi's bare chest didn't help answer it. She met his eyes again.

“I want to meet this Kenny. He might be able to help me find my friend.”

“He might at that, but he'll want something in return. We'll have to do a job for him at the very least.”

“You'll come with me?” She felt her heart swell with hope.

“I'm not going to let you face him alone. I know him; that will give you an edge in whatever negotiations you make.”

Levi dressed while Mikasa had breakfast. There was nothing to pack. They made their way to the post office and waited for the next carriage; they came daily in these more civilised parts of the world.

“What do you think Kenny will make of me?” Mikasa asked.

“He’s going to love you,” Levi said. The corner of his mouth curled into a smile. “But I don’t think you’ll like him much.”

“So he’s not like you then,” Mikasa said, feeling happy and daring. What a difference it made, setting out on a journey with a friend.

Levi met her eyes, the wolf in his own gleaming. “We have one or two things in common.”

Mikasa had nothing to say to _that_ and she was relieved of the need to do so by the carriage rattling up outside the post office. She wondered if her face was as red as her cloak as she hid behind her hair, and followed Levi into its darkened interior.

When a sharp corner on the way out of town threw her against him slightly, she didn’t move away, watching the world outside the window flood with colour as the clouds finally broke, letting in the sun.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This ending might seem excessively open but this fic ended up nothing like I'd planned, and at the end of this exhausting year I could not possibly do whatever it was turning into justice. Thus, a compromise; an ending of sorts that I may come back to in the future.


End file.
